Softness
by Victoria Kit
Summary: Cait only knew roughness, until Nora came around.


For the majority of her life, Cait knew only roughness. She knew it first in her parents, when they'd leave marks on her skin that stung, and when they'd scream at her for even the littlest mistake, as if everything wrong in the world was entirely her fault. Then, she knew it in the slavers, when they'd use her for unspeakable things, treating her like an object for their pleasure and nothing more. She knew it in the Psycho, when it entered her veins and altered her thoughts and gave a strong _bite_ as it flowed through her body. She knew it in the Combat Zone, in the feeling of a punch to the face, the feeling of bones cracking and blood vessels breaking in her knuckles. It was something that embodied her life, something that she wore like armor. From every significant detail of her life to the minute, day-to-day tasks she carried through, Cait knew roughness.

So, why was it that this woman–this Vault-dwelling woman who lived centuries ago, this goddamn _relic_ who once had a son, a husband, and so many _other_ people to care about–why was she so soft on Cait? Nora treated to her like she was a person, a worthwhile human being, and not just some object to use as a shield or to take advantage of. Nora treated her like she deserved more than a death from Psycho addiction, like she was a friend, and now a lover. When Nora wrapped her arms around Cait, it wasn't a rough touch or a slug to the chest, but a warm embrace, keeping her comfortable on dangerous nights, and simply… _being there for her_ , like no one ever had before.

"You know, this is my first time," comes Cait's voice, her face softly illuminated by a makeshift campfire in a makeshift hideaway. There was an honest tone to her voice. Although the moment was generally wholesome, her words were without context, which lead to slight confusion on Nora's part.

"Your first time, _what_?" Nora asked, brows furrowed, her gaze meeting Cait's. She'd been feeding the fire some dry, irradiated twigs from an old pre-war tree when Cait had spoken up.

"Bein' in love, I mean," Cait elaborated. "I've never… _felt_ this way for another person until you came along–and, hell, I'm damn well sure nobody's ever felt this way about _me_ before."

Nora's confusion settled into a gentle smile, one filled with adoration. It was enough to… _fuck_ , what was that term? Some shite about butterflies in a stomach? Yeah, that was that feeling. It was a certain fluttery feeling that Cait had been fully unacquainted with–that was, until Nora stepped in. "Well, it's been wonderful having you around; wonderful loving you," the Vault suit-adorned woman replied, and after she finished her business with the kindling, she scooted herself closer to Cait, resting her head upon the Irishwoman's shoulder.

A soft blush appeared on Cait's freckle-covered face, her lips turning upward into a grin. "I can say the same for you, _gorgeous_ ," she said, her voice lowered as she reached over, pulling Nora even closer to her. "If someone would've told me months ago that I'd be with the love of me life, clean and free from Psycho and the Combat Zone, _well_ …" She trailed off, chuckling lightly, "I don't even know if I'd have believed a word of it. 'Probably would've laughed in their face, if anythin'."

This whole thing felt so _surreal_ , which was ironic, considering Cait was permanently free of chems, at this point. She was so glad she hadn't given up on life, though, and so grateful that she'd never pulled the trigger those times when she'd stared down the barrel of her shotgun. It seemed that all of that hoping, wishing, and _praying_ for something to make her life worth living hadn't been in vain, after all.

Nora was wordless for the next few moments, and Cait reveled in the sound of her breathing–rhythmic, real, _alive_ ; living proof that there was good out there in the world, that there was kindness, beauty, _softness_. Nora was proof that even someone with such a shitty, disgusting upbringing as Cait's was still redeemable, still worthy of love. Cait may have never though that about herself, if not for Nora.

"I'm so glad I had decided to visit the Combat Zone for the first time," Nora looked up at Cait, grinning, sitting back up so she could plant a kiss on Cait's lips.

Nora's lips were soft, and though this was not their first time kissing, it felt as if Cait relearned the meaning of happiness every time their lips met. It was pure bliss. Cait brought her arms around Nora, resting one hand on her back and sliding the other one through Nora's hair in a motion so gentle. Much more gentle than she had ever touched anyone in her whole life, and certainly much more gentle than anyone had ever been toward her. Nora's hair was so damn _soft_ , even in spite of being rather unwashed and a bit tousled from the Commonwealth's environment. ( _Not that Cait's hair was any less messy._ ) Cait sighed softly as she leaned into the kiss, smiling against Nora's lips. The smile remained on her face, even after they had both pulled away.

Cait gave Nora one more quick peck, right on her upper lip, a simple gesture and a nonverbal _'I love you'_. When she was with Nora, there was never any fighting, no screaming or violence, only sweet kisses and tender touches. There was only mutual respect, mutual love, and mutual caring. Nora was even understanding of Cait's own trauma and history of terrible treatment, so mindful and knowing of Cait's boundaries. The difference between Nora and everyone else in Cait's life is that Nora had never crossed them.

Right now, Cait felt worlds away from those years of roughness. "I'm glad, too. No one's ever stayed by me like you have."

"I'll always stay by you, Cait. I promise."

The best part was that Cait knew Nora's words to be true. Cait let out a soft exhale, the dreamy look having not left her face, "and I for you."

Cait had known roughness for so long, but all of it had been worth enduring for Nora.


End file.
